


Whispers

by aurora_australis



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 02:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: There had always been whispers about Jack Robinson and his wife...An entry for today's Flashfic Challenge.





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Flash Fic entry so unbetaed and essentially unedited. *nervously posts anyway*
> 
> Many thanks as always to olderbynow and whopooh for organizing / encouraging me to make poor life choices! ;-)

There had always been whispers about Jack Robinson and his wife.

He was only interested in her for her money, for her father’s cachet, for job security, for a promotion. They weren’t new, and they weren’t original. He never let them bother him, and he hoped they didn’t bother her.

But lately… lately there had been new whispers. Whispers about a woman he worked with - brillant, beautiful, questionable morals, questionable acquaintances.

_“I heard they spent the night doing ‘tests’ on the body.”_

_“A body, certainly.”_

She was single, accomplished, and didn’t seem to give a damn what people thought of her. 

_“I heard they spent the weekend in Queencliff. On a... case.”_

_“Hmph. Queenscliff used to be such a select summering spot.”_

He was with her all the time. Early mornings, late nights.

_“I heard they were drinking together in the Ladies' Lounge of Miller’s Pub.”_

_“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call her a lady.”_

The whispers weren’t true, of course. But that didn’t stop them. 

What stopped them was his wife.

It was early one day in late November, many months after these rumours had started, and Jack was sitting in his office when Phryne swanned in - carried, it seemed, on the morning breeze.

“Hello Jack!” she trilled, taking her customary seat on his desk.

Mid-toast bite, he just nodded in greeting.

“Oh toast! Excellent.” She reached over to grab a piece for herself. “So I suppose you know why I’m here.”

Jack swallowed his toast and arched an eyebrow. “I assume it’s to steal my breakfast.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack, that’s just an added bonus. No I’m here about the Delancey murder.”

“Death.”

“Murder. I’m sure of it. Just check with the coroner.”

“As it happens, I am awaiting the report right now. You’re welcome to wait with me if you like.”

“You don’t want to go down to the morgue?” she asked, surprised.

“I don’t think haranguing the coroner will do any good.”

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly suspicious.

“Why?”

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Why don’t you want to harangue the coroner? You’ve never hesitated before.”

“ _You’ve_ never hesitated before. I just usually get pulled along in your wake. I’m practicing resistance training this morning, that’s all. Now, please remove yourself from my desk, I was reading the arrest report you’re currently sitting on.”

Still dubious, Phryne jumped down and crossed her arms. She didn’t say anything, just rounded the desk and sat in her usual seat, watching him carefully.

“What?” he asked again, not confused at all this time; his eyes were now on the report, but he was well aware she was staring at him.

“You’re being… shifty.”

He looked up at that, amused by her choice of words.

“Shifty?”

“Yes, shifty. Slippery, sneaky, cagey.”

“I know what the word means, I just don’t know why you’re accusing me of it.”

“I don’t entirely know yet either,” she admitted. “But you are and I will.”

He opened his mouth to respond, decided against it, and went back to his report. She chewed on his toast and watched. They had both been quiet for several minutes when the sound of the station entrance opening and closing traveled through his almost shut office door.

“Well I heard he spent the night.”

“No!”

“Yeah, he left here with some report or other to show her and when he got in this morning he was,” the first voice lowered to a whisper, “wearing the same suit.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” the second voice said.

“Sure it does. Proves he didn’t go home. Not that I blame him, I heard his wife isn’t even there most of the time.”

Phryne’s eyebrows rose to her hairline at that, an amused expression on her face as she put all the pieces of the puzzle together. She tilted her head at Jack and very deliberately picked up a paperweight and slammed it down on the desk, alerting anyone in earshot that Jack’s office was, in fact, occupied.

The whispers from the anteroom stopped. 

After a bit of scuffling, Constable Briggs, who had clearly lost the toss, headed into Jack’s office. 

“Good morning, Sir.” he said, definitely the source of voice number two, though it was decidedly more nervous now.

“Good morning, Constable,” Jack said gruffly. “Those for me?” he asked, pointing at the papers in the man’s hand.

“Uh, yes. Yes. These just came in, Sir. From the coroner. She’s wants you to, uh,” the young man shot a quick glance at Phryne and lowered his voice slightly, “call her immediately.”

Jack took the papers and nodded.

Constable Briggs made a quick retreat.

Phryne laughed. “So that’s where you were.”

Jack shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “We were playing cards and listening to Henry Lauder and I had too much to drive home. Stayed in the guest room. I would have called, but I knew you were on a stakeout most of the night.”

She waved off his explanation. “I assumed as much. Though apparently other people assumed more.”

“Yes. Hence…”

“Hence your reluctance to run over to see Mac just now.”

He nodded, a little guilty. He never let the whispers bother him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to add fuel to the fire. He had the doctor's reputation to think of after all.

Phryne laughed again and shook her head at her noble husband.

Then she stood up decisively and marched out into the waiting room, Jack at her heels; he knew trouble when he saw it.

Without preamble she picked up the telephone and put in a call to the morgue.

“Hello, Mac? It’s Phryne. Yes, yes, we have the report, and we’ll be right over… Murder, you say? _Shocking_.” She shot Jack a victorious look over her shoulder. “But Mac, that’s not why I called. I hear Jack spent the night last night.” 

The constable to her right - voice number one - made a somewhat choked noise which she ignored. 

“No, not a problem at all, darling, I’m just put out I couldn’t join you.” There was a pause during which Phryne grinned and tongued her canine. Both contables suddenly looked like they might faint and Jack rolled his eyes so far back in his head he momentarily lost sight of her. When he saw her next, she was practically caressing the phone and her voice was low, though entirely audible. 

“Mmmm. Next time, definitely. After all, many hands… make light work.” Her voice resumed its normal volume. “Or something like that anyway. But no matter, we’ll be over to discuss the autopsy immediately. See you soon!”

Then she hung up the telephone and breezed back out to the front door.

“Coming, Jack?”

Jack sighed, grabbed his coat and hat and followed her.

And suddenly there were new whispers.

Jack never let them bother him, and he knew they didn’t bother Phryne.

Elizabeth MacMillan, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.


End file.
